


Pit Stop

by starksborn



Series: Quilson Zombie AU [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Gen, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:59:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1738868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksborn/pseuds/starksborn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another roleplay related prompt. Oliver and Slade scavenge for supplies, Ollie makes a fool of himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pit Stop

The pharmacy is about empty when they find it, which is no less than what they’d been expecting. They take careful steps inside anyway, sweeping over the front end with their flashlights. Slade taps the tip of his sword on the counter, a few loud  _tiktiktik_ s echo around them. When nothing charges them, they decide to probe farther. 

Slade swings his pack from his shoulder, placing it on the counter and digging around. He pulls out a hunting knife and passes it to Ollie. Originally, he’d given one over for Oliver to have on him at all times, and then it got lost. The second knife went way of the first, and ever since, Slade keeps all the weapons they don’t absolutely need well away from Butter Fingers.

"Don’t shoot unless you need to," he says. "I don’t particularly want to get cornered in here."  Ollie nods, holstering his gun and clipping the knife sheath to his belt.

"So, I go right, you go left?" he asks. Slade shrugs, slinging the pack back onto his shoulder. He moves on without another word, taking the far side of the store, and Oliver assumes that’s a yes to his question. 

The first aisle held makeup products at one point in time, or so says the sign. Oliver scans the shelves and passes them by, moving onto toiletries. He manages to find a small pack of toilet paper and some wet wipes, and can’t help but grab a pair of fingernail clippers. 

The aisles with all of the important items; medicines and first aid and the like are all but gone. Literally, someone or something attempted to move one of the shelves, leaving long scrape marks on the white floor. Ollie gets down on his hands and knees, shining the light under the racks, hoping for  _something_. He finds a small pack of constipation pills for his effort. He’s so annoyed he considers tossing them, but slips the pack into the bag anyway. 

Who knows, maybe those are just what Slade needs to lighten up a bit.

He rounds another corner and finds the trashed magazine aisle. There’s paper all over, shredded books and flyers. There’s more left behind here than anywhere else he’s seen in the store. Apparently people in the apocalypse don’t have much of a burning need for six month old issues of Cosmo. He kicks some pages with the toe of his boot, swaying the light over the scattered mess on the floor, and something catches his eye. 

Ollie kneels down and picks up one of the trampled magazines, turning it over, and smirking a little. It’s an issue of Playboy. He stands back up, holding the spread in one hand and the flashlight in the other. He can’t resist flipping through it, old habits after all. His mind wanders, and for a few minutes he’s so engrossed in what he’s doing, he almost forgets about the zombies. He’s not even paying attention to the magazine itself, it just brings back other memories. 

And then suddenly there’s a small cough next to him and he turns, reaching out to hit whatever made the noise with the magazine—and  _yes_  he realizes almost instantly how utterly stupid that is— only to find Slade leaning nonchalantly against the rack, one dark eyebrow raised in amusement. 

"Jesus Christ!" Oliver snaps. "How do you  _do_  that?!”

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Slade asks. He jabs a thumb behind him, to some area across the store. "Because I found some lube on aisle four if you need it." 

"I literally hate you." 

Slade chuckles, and claps him roughly on the shoulder as he walks by. 

"Come on, kid," he calls over his shoulder. "Nothing useful for us in here." 

Oliver pouts and makes a face at the mans back, and rolls the magazine up and stuffs it in his bag just to be spiteful. 


End file.
